


Prayers to Dean

by Listae



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Lonely Castiel, M/M, Misunderstandings, Prayer, Unrequited Love, post 9x03
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-21
Updated: 2017-11-11
Packaged: 2019-01-20 15:30:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12435786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Listae/pseuds/Listae
Summary: After Dean had asked Castiel to leave the bunker, Castiel had to learn to live a life of a human. Alone and disheartened he had to find out what it means to be a human and along the way he also learned what it meant to pray. This is a story made of Castiel's prayers as he learned to navigate his new life without his human at his side.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is a WIP. In my head I have a behemoth of a story planned, but frankly it scares me some to even attempt that. So I'll be posting these prayers as I go, but it might as well not turn out as big as I have planned in my head. But anyway, I do promise that whenever I decide I can't do it anymore, I'll bring the story to satisfying (at least I hope) end and it won't remain unfinished. There's nothing I dislike as much as my stories being unfinished...  
> Hope you enjoy! L.

September 2013

Hello Dean,

I don't know what I’m doing. 

I was thinking about your prayers tonight. All the prayers I received before meeting you were about people asking for something. You asked for something at times too, but more often than not you’d simply tell me about your day and what was happening to those around you. It was rarely about you, mostly Sam or people you met on the hunt. When you’d ask for something, it’d always be about Sam. Or me, you’d sometimes ask me to come back. 

I’m not asking for anything. This reminds me of your prayers though, because I think you had felt like they were not answered as well. You will never answer my prayers, because I’m not going to send them to you and I think it’s a perfect symmetry to how you must have felt. 

It’s nighttime, Dean. I’m sitting at Gas-n-Sip right now and it’s empty. It’s quiet. I thought it would be a perfect time to pray, but my head feels so silent without the song of my brethren and without your prayers that I couldn’t concentrate. So I’m writing, because it forces me to think in words and sentences. There’s simplicity in writing. It’s not easy, but it’s simpler than trying to catch all the things that flash through my head. 

It’s been three weeks that I live here, at Gas-n-Sip. I think Nora knows, because she always makes sure she leaves before me, even if we’re finishing at the same time. She smiles at me and asks me to lock up and not to stay up too long. She doesn't question why I work such long hours, when everyone else comes in for shorter times. She doesn't ask how I'm always here to open up. She’s also given me sweaters. She said they used to belong to a friend of hers, but they look so new that I’m doubtful.

It astounds me, this kindness of people. It seems to me that those that have the least are the most willing to give. I never told you about a man I met after I fell. I was living under a bridge with couple of other people. These people let me get warm at their fire and they gave me their newspapers to lie on. And then this man came along. He also was cold and wanted to get warmer and he also was accepted without a word. He saw me sitting on my newspapers and he came to sit beside me. He had one can of beans and he sat beside me eating it. My stomach growled at the smell, painful and miserable. I never knew hunger could be so unpleasant. So this man looked at me and I saw he was tired, worn and hungry, but he looked at me and he pushed his half-eaten can of beans into my shaking hands. I tried to give it back - I didn't deserve his kindness, I’ve never done anything for him and he had no reason to share his last food with me. But he just shook his head and told me he had enough and I had none, so it was only fair. He never asked anything of me and simply sat with me talking about his life while I ate. How could he have been so kind, Dean? How could I have not known people have such kindness in them?

Nora’s kind as well. She talks to me - just a mindless chatter, but it keeps me company and I'm grateful. She also fed me the first week I worked here. She told me she couldn't give me an advance payment, but she saw I had nothing on me, so she made sure I ate at least twice a day. She even apologized it was just a station’s food, can you believe it? 

It makes me wonder if all people have this kindness in their hearts. I realize some are hardened and desperate and they don't display it, but does that mean they don't have it, or simply that they’ve been burnt enough not to let it show ever again. Is cruelty just a aftereffect of neglect and hardships, or are some people actually born cruel? And if so - is it the same with kindness?

I’ve seen you being kind, Dean. You care for yours - your friends, family. You protect and provide to them and you even try your best to all the people you meet on your hunt. It makes me wonder if there was a time you cared for me. I know you don't now and I don't blame you, but it does make me wonder.

I was so angry at you, Dean. I’m ashamed to admit it now, but I was so angry when you asked me to go away. I still don't understand why you asked me to come in the first place, but now I at least understand why you asked me to leave. I don't deserve your kindness, not anymore. I’ve made so many mistakes and I have betrayed and hurt you so many times, that it’s not surprising you don’t extend your kindness to me. I understand and I don't blame you anymore. And I want to apologize for being angry with you in the first place. I’m so sorry, Dean. 

I have to end this prayer now and I don't know how. Do I say amen? Did you know that amen actually means truth? I know people think that it means ‘so be it’ or some even say ‘the word of God’, but it doesn’t. It’s derived from Hebrew amet which roughly translated means the truth. Anyway, although everything I’m writing here is the truth, I have no inclination to end it by amen, when I have something more important to say to you, Dean. Be safe, that’s much more important than amen. Be safe.


	2. Chapter 2

October 2013

Hello, Dean.

You came to see me last week. Well no, not to see me, but you came when I called for help. That’s the thing about you, my friend - you always come to help those in need. I think that’s the one thing Zachariah was right about - you would always end up being a hunter, no matter what. It’s wired in you, deep inside, this need to help people, to protect the innocent, to guard them. I know you think this life was thrust upon you, but even if the circumstances were different and you weren’t the righteous man, you’d still be saving people.  
I sometimes think you would’ve become a policeman or maybe a firefighter. Or a doctor like the one in the show you love so much. You would still dedicate your life to saving people, helping them. And it’s so unfair that you had to become a killer, when your soul strives to help and nurture.

  
I know you blame yourself so harshly for the choices you have to make, for the people you’re unable to save. But, Dean… You’re the best man I know. You came when I asked you to, even though you have your hands full with angels and your brother still recovering. And I know you didn't do it for me, but that’s exactly what makes you so… astonishing. I’ve made so many mistakes and I’ve let you down so many times, and yet, when people were in danger, you came even though it was I who called you. You even asked for my help with the case, despite how hard it must’ve been for you to even talk to me.

  
I wasn’t fair to you, my friend, and I’m sorry for that. I don't know what I was thinking. You came to help when I asked, but as soon as I saw you, with your easy smiles confidently striding into Gas’n’Sip, it reminded me how little my worthless presence meant to you. You looked happy, Dean, and I… Well, I knew you didn't spare me much thought after you asked me to go, but I guess there was still a part of me that selfishly hoped you might’ve missed me nonetheless. And I know it’s stupid, I know you don’t, but when I saw you coming in the shop, part of me hoped you actually did.

  
I didn’t expect you to come see me, you see. I thought you’d come with Sam and would just take care of the hunt the way you always do. I didn't think I’d even see you, because there was no reason for you to come to me. But you came alone and you asked for my help and I was… I acted as if you owed something to me. You, of all people… I’m sorry, Dean, I do know better. You, my friend, owe me nothing. You were right to ask me to go away and I was wrong to act as if you shouldn't have. So I’m sorry and I’m just glad you didn't think much of it.

  
I’m so happy to have seen you, though. I know it doesn't matter much, but I’m really happy to have seen you one last time, despite the way I chose to act. It hurt, you see. To see you so relaxed and unbothered, when my foolish human heart was trying to beat right out of my chest. It’s not you fault you don't care about me, if anything it’s mine, because I still think there was a time when you did care about me. But I acted as if you owed me, as if you should care about me and for that, my friend, I’m sorry.

  
But I’m happy to have seen you nevertheless. I think I will always be happy to see you, even if I know last week was actually the last time.

  
I can see I’m rambling, Dean, so I think it’s time to end this prayer. Thank you for coming, Dean, and please be safe.


	3. Chapter 3

November 2013

Hello Dean,

It’s a different prayer today, Dean. I want to share with you a good thing. I remember you talking to me through your prayers some times when things were good or when you had a successful hunt, or when your burger was particularly tasty. You’d share these good things with me in a prayer and I want to extend the same curtesy to you, even though you’ll never know about it.

I rented an apartment today, Dean, I’m no longer homeless. Nora helped me with it. She’s the one who actually found it for me and told me about it. I was right, Dean, she knew I was living in the stock room of Gas’n’Sip. She didn't say a word until she actually found the apartment for rent that I could possibly afford and since I had saved a little money by then, I took it. So now I have a place of my own.

It’s small, of course - just a bedroom, kitchen and living room in one space and a small bathroom. But, Dean… I never knew owning something, however temporary, could be so satisfying. I have a place to come back after long day at work, I have some place to lay my head at night and feel safe. I know any safety I feel is largely an illusion now, that I can’t actually protect myself, but even this false sense of security brings me such pleasure, Dean. 

I’d like to share it with you. I’d like you to see my small apartment, to feel the safety of it’s walls. I know you’d tell me to stop being a baby about it, but I’m just so happy to finally have a place to call home. It's empty and it's lonely, but it’s mine and I have where to come back and I don't have to worry about someone coming to work early and walking in on me sleeping in a stock room. 

I’m happy, Dean. Well, maybe not happy, but content for sure. I finally understand how you must have felt when you and Sam discovered the bunker - a place to call home. No wonder you’re so particular about it - about your room especially, but about the whole place, too. I noticed you liked the things to remain in their places and you had a particular order in the kitchen. I couldn't understand it at the time, but I think I get it now. It's your place to call home, to rest after difficult days, after facing the horrors that the world has in store for you. 

I understand you so much better now, I think. I understand why you didn’t want me there. It’s your safe place and I was never part of it. It’s not about kindness after all - it’s about the place to call home. You guard your home and you cherish it - something like me could have never had a place in it. I understand now, Dean.

But I would still like to share my home with you. I wouldn't guard it against you. You are the brightest soul I have ever seen. My humble home would be so much better with you here. I would be happier with you here. No longer merely content, but truly happy, Dean. I know its just a fantasy and you will never come. You will never walk in my door and you will never feel the safety of my walls, but it’s a mere prayer and I want you to know that nothing would make me happier than having you here. I don't know what that means and what it says about me, but frankly, I don't care. I just want you here, Dean. I just want you here.  
Be safe, my friend. 


	4. Chapter 4

December 2013

 

Hello Dean,

 

Today, my friend, I’m drunk. Nora asked me to join the Christmas party she had thrown for her friends and family and I did, so now I am drunk.

I don’t know what I want to say to you. This is an awkward prayer - my head is full of swimming thoughts I can’t seem to arrange. Maybe I should have waited for tomorrow to pray? But the thing is if I don't try to pray to you, I’m afraid I might call you and I don’t want to do that. It’s Christmas, Dean, and I don't want to ruin it for you with my sad maudlin self. I remember you saying that alcohol made things better. You seemed to get drunk when you were sad or stressed and you’d laugh and smile and I thought it made you feel better. There must be something wrong with me, because it didn’t make me feel better. If anything it made me feel nostalgic and I think I miss you even more now. It’s not right, is it? I was hoping getting drunk with my friends would take my mind off you and I wouldn’t miss you as much, but it feels like there’s this hole inside my chest that throbs painfully. It’s there when I’m sober, too, but when I’m sober I can make myself ignore the urge to call you better. Is this what all those references about drunk calling talk about? How it lowers your inhibitions and you suddenly think that maybe your call would not be burdensome, but maybe even appreciated? I know you’d never want me to call you, I know that, but now that I’m drunk, my stupid mind keeps whispering that maybe you at least wouldn’t get angry with me and in turn I’d get to hear your voice. And yes, I know it’s pathetic. I’m human enough to realize how starved of your attention I am and how unbelievable pathetic you’d find me if you ever knew. And you know the saddest thing, my friend? It’s not even you knowing and pitying me that stops me from reaching out. I think I could live with that - with you knowing just how much of an idiot I am and how much my foolish human heart longs for you. I could live with you feeling sorry for me, I think. It’s bothering you that stops me. I don’t want to bother you today, of all days, when you should be relaxing and enjoying this day with your family. And so I’m praying to you, Dean, because I can’t stop myself from that, but I can and will stop myself from calling you.

I imagine you and Sam in the bunker, you know? In my head, you have a tree and gifts under it. You’re sitting in the television room with eggnog that’s more bourbon than anything else, drinking companionably. Maybe Charlie and Kevin are with you? I’ve never met Charlie, but from the stories you’ve told, I have a picture in my head of a sweet smiling redhead, leaning on you shoulder while you both exchange a back and forth of the references I would never get, despite the knowledge Metatron bestowed upon me. You both laugh and Sam rolls his eyes exasperatedly at your antics. And you watch Star Wars or maybe Harry Potter, discussing the finer points and being so ridiculously opinionated over a work of fiction. I see all of you laughing - a real family spending their holidays together after a time apart. 

I would never want to intrude on that. If anything, you, my friend, deserve it. You deserve the comfort of your whole family together. You deserve the quiet and peaceful holiday, spending time with people you love doing nothing in particular, just relaxing and drinking and laughing.

I hope this is indeed how you’re spending your Christmas, Dean. I wish you all the best and I hope you’re truly happy. The only thing I can do for you is to let you enjoy it in peace and quiet, so I think here’s where I end this prayer.

Merry Christmas, Dean. Be safe.


End file.
